


Past Midnight

by Laura Shapiro (laurashapiro)



Series: Coming to Light [4]
Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-01
Updated: 2001-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurashapiro/pseuds/Laura%20Shapiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Franny schemes. Fraser moons. Ray freaks. Victoria arrives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past Midnight

Franny managed not to have her cry right away. She didn't feel much on the way back from his apartment, navigating the familiar streets on auto-pilot. She let herself into the house quietly. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep it together if someone started asking her where she'd been. But on her way up the stairs, she tripped over one of Tony Jr.'s toy trucks and went down hard on one knee. One more thing, dammit, on top of everything else, and the tears were falling before she made it into her room. Franny muffled her cries in a pillow. Gone were the days when crying openly brought her treats and the sympathy of the family. She wasn't the baby anymore.

She let it all out then -- frustration over her spoiled plans, the money she'd spent, the fantasies she'd nurtured and clung to, spun out every night before falling asleep. "It's not fair," she sobbed into the dampening cotton, and then felt a little stupid and got up to get a tissue.

Then she began to think about what to do about it. The first thing was to figure out whom the object of Fraser's affection could possibly be. She had to know what she was up against. Wiping her nose, she composed herself. She would develop a plan. She would do something about it. Franny removed the by now terribly binding bustier, which had impressed itchy red bands across her ribcage, and laid it in a drawer. She went to bed.

But as the days went by, opportunities for studying Fraser or, indeed, challenging him directly, were few. She had a hard time getting out of the house at the best of times, and just now Maria and two of her kids were sick and Franny had her hands full picking up the slack; making soup, running to the store for Kleenex and baby aspirin, and generally trying to take care of everybody when Ma got overwhelmed. She wondered dimly why Tony or Ray couldn't drive to the store once in a while, or ferry the kids to the pediatrician. But it was never really an option somehow.

But Franny found it easy, even preferable, to think within the noise in the chaos of the house. Something about the wall of din gave her a kind of privacy in her own head. While holding a glass of juice to Julia's parched lips, or a tissue to Tony Jr.'s nose ("Blow," she commanded), Franny wondered who it was that Benton loved.

Someone in Canada? That didn't make much sense. No sensible person would remain hundreds of miles from the man of their dreams long after duty was done, and Benton was a sensible man. He'd cried over this guy. The wound was fresh, current even. It had to be somebody here, someone he saw often.

Franny considered and rejected the notion of someone at the Consulate, some other Mountie. For one thing, according to Ray, Benton's time there consisted of four-hour shifts standing like a statue alone out front. Not much of a way to begin a romance. For another, the idea of two Mounties in love was just ridiculous.

Besides, Benton hardly spent any time at the Consulate -- how else could he have worked night and day helping her brother...

Her brother.

She cried again then, a little, running into the bathroom with a tissue pressed to her face -- partly out of sympathy for the Mountie, but also out of a desire to pummel her brother. How hopeless! Ray could never be like that. Men didn't come any straighter than Ray. Which was enough to make her think she might just have a chance.

She went into the station as soon as the kids were back at school. She didn't have a plan, she had to do something. She wanted Benton to be happy, she knew that much. Of course, she would have preferred to be the one making him happy. And of course when she saw Elaine she couldn't help but spin out the story of that night, sticking to the gospel as far as the amount she'd paid for the lingerie, but leaving, well, a whole lot to Elaine's imagination. She couldn't violate Benton's trust; she wasn't going that far. But maybe she was helping him preserve his ladykiller image. He'd have to thank her for that. Maybe, overcome with gratitude, he'd sweep her into his arms...

But Benton was evasive, and then away most of the afternoon and evening working on some kidnapping case. Franny passed the time by chatting and picking up coffee for people. She loitered. She waited.

It all came unraveled that evening when Ray cornered her and dragged her off into the interrogation room. She'd been looking for Benton, hoping for the chance to tell him what she'd been doing all day for his benefit, and instead of that sweet face she was staring into her brother's, unshaven and flat with exhaustion. He promptly gave her the fifth degree. Or was it the fourth?

She was so used to his disrespect that it didn't totally register. What she felt instead, meeting his intense stare, was that he thought Benton was too good for her. She had time to get angry before she realized what he was holding back, what it meant.

She did all but shove him toward the Mountie at that point, a kind of clarity coming over her in which she reasoned that if she couldn't be happy in love, at least she could make sure that other people would be. And Ray seemed to take it to heart. It was the first hug they'd shared since her divorce.

Refusing Benton's offer to walk her home was one of the more painful things she had ever done, but she managed it.

And now it was 1:37 in the morning, and she was waiting up in the living room applying her third coat of Precious Peach Hydrating Nail Lacquer, waiting for Ray to come home. She was done crying, for now anyway.

The key clicked in the lock, the door swung open. "Franny? What are you doing up?" Ray asked quietly.

"Waiting for you." She got up and put her arms over his shoulders, carefully fanning out her hands to preserve the still-wet polish. "How are you feeling?"

Ray squeezed her briefly, then pushed her back. "I'm fine. I'm wiped out, I got a full day tomorrow --"

"How was he?"

A pause, a shade too long to feel natural. Ray's mouth got all tensed up. "Who?"

"The Mountie. You were at his place tonight, weren't you?"

"Franny, how many times do I gotta tell you to leave him alone, huh?" He seemed positively thrilled at the chance to snap at her, although his voice didn't rise above a whisper.

"That's pretty funny, coming from you. Come on, spill. How was he?" Part of her was concerned for Benton, who was so obviously miserable, and part of her was desperate for details, any details, about what it was like to make love to him.

Ray's face collapsed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She moved close to him again so she could keep her voice quiet, blowing on her nails and carefully not looking at him. "I want you to be happy. Both of you. I'm not going to tell anybody. Contrary to what some people may think, I do know how to keep a secret."

Ray's breath was sour in her face. "Franny, I don't know what kind of crazy stunt you're trying to pull, but it's too late and I'm too damn tired to listen to you babble. I'm going to bed."

"I love you, Ray."

He stopped briefly on the bottom stair. "You're a freak," he muttered.

Franny waited until his bedroom door closed to collect her manicure set and head upstairs. She was way too keyed up to sleep; her heart felt like it was going to explode.

Benton was really gay. And she was 99 percent sure he'd had sex with Ray tonight.

She really did want them to be happy, but she just couldn't handle the idea of Ray with a man. Ray with his little black book. How could this ever work?

And Benton...she still wanted him so much it was like a physical pain.

Maybe it would be more of a kindness to try to sway him. In the long run, he couldn't hope for any happiness with Ray, could he?

Maybe all Benton needed was the love of a good woman to turn him around.

***

The Chicago spring was more appealing than Fraser had expected. The consulate was on a tree-lined street, and as he stood at his post he enjoyed the light, powdery fragrance of cherry blossoms and the sounds of children at play in the nearby park. The chilling wind which normally blew off the lake, scattering trash and threatening to divest him of his hat, had subdued itself and become a gentle breeze, perfumed with dozens of varieties of flowers brought to bloom by the recent rains. Fraser was thankful he didn't suffer from allergies.

As usual during his shifts, Fraser kept his senses on the alert, passing the time by identifying and categorizing the various sights, sounds, and smells of the surrounding area. But it was difficult to stay focused today.

The unfamiliar soreness in his backside troubled him; there was no injury, he'd made sure of that, but he found himself peculiarly aware of a part of his body that he had rarely given thought to. It was impossible not to replay the experiences of the previous night in his mind --the taste of Ray's lips, the heat of his breath, the roughness of his voice were so clearly remembered they seemed to have been felt just seconds ago, yet they were ephemeral enough to frustrate. The memory of the heft of Ray's erect penis in his mouth made him stir in his boxers; the recalled sensation of Ray thrusting into him while his own cries rang in his ears made him blush and squirm. Made his uniform itch. Made him want it all to happen again, and as soon as possible.

Yet the erotic urges weren't as disturbing as the other urges he was feeling, impulses that bolted through him like lightning. These desires were not like the lazy meander of his more prurient thoughts. These tightened his stomach and made his chest feel warm and large. He wanted to run. He wanted to sing. He wanted to climb to the roof of the consulate and shout Ray's name so that all of Chicago could hear. He was so happy that he felt vaguely ashamed of himself.

As the day drew to a close, Fraser had difficulty remaining composed. He was horrified to discover that he had been hoping for some kind of trouble -- an accident or crime -- that would mean he could run off to the precinct and find Ray.

Thank goodness, the Riviera pulled up promptly at five. Inspector Moffat was just stepping out, and Fraser forced himself to restrain the smile that threatened to engulf his face at the sight of Ray leaning across the front seat to unlock the passenger door.

"Hello Ray," he said heartily, climbing into the warm familiar smell of the car. Ray's proximity was something he wanted to bathe in.

"Chinese okay with you, Benny?" A slight smile, nothing untoward, but Fraser noticed the sparkle in Ray's eyes that belied his calm. He admired Ray's control with some surprise, but realized that Ray had of course much more experience in matters of the heart.

"Chinese food would be just fine."

Once they pulled away from the curb, Fraser gave in to the need in his palms and put one hand on Ray's slim thigh, squeezing the firm muscle. He could feel the hair through the gray slacks, and he had a brief mental image of running his tongue along Ray's leg.

Ray kept his eyes on the road. "I want you too," he said softly, "but you'd better keep your hands to yourself when we're in public."

Fraser brought his hand back to his lap and willed himself calm. "Sorry, Ray."

A muscle in Ray's jaw twitched. "You got anything to eat at your place?"

Fraser's spirits lifted considerably. "There's some leftover beef stew. "

Ray pulled hard on the wheel and the vehicle swung in a screeching arc, making an illegal U-turn in the middle of an intersection.

"Ray!"

Ray laughed as they sped away toward Fraser's apartment.

***

As soon as Ray closed the door behind them Fraser was on him like a starving man. He pinned Ray's body to the door and kissed him, licking Ray's lips apart and stroking in with his tongue. His hands were braced against the door on either side of Ray's head -- hands were irrelevant in the mad rush to taste Ray again. Ray evidently did not agree, stroking down his back to clutch his backside and hold him close. Both men moaned into the kiss.

"I got so crazy at work today, thinking about last night," Ray murmured against his lips. They tingled hotly and Fraser savored it, savored the little flip his stomach gave.

"And tonight?"

"And tonight. Oh, Benny, what I'm going to do to you." This last was whispered into Fraser's ear, making him shiver. His erection twitched against the confines of his shorts as Ray's hot mouth worked along his chin, his jaw, and down his throat. Still Fraser pressed his hands against the door, taking an odd enjoyment in immobility as Ray tasted him.

"How crazy?"

"What?" Ray stopped mid-kiss, and then gave a half-smile and took the flesh of Fraser's neck between his teeth.

"How-- oh...how crazy did you get, thinking about...ah...about..." It was impossible to concentrate with Ray's mouth there.

Ray worried the skin a bit, then licked behind Fraser's ear. "I got so crazy, I almost locked myself in the bathroom to jack off."

The image seared itself into Fraser's mind, and he thrust against Ray, an involuntary motion. He was pleased when Ray closed his eyes in response.

"Mmm...god..."

They kissed again, and Ray began ineffectually fiddling with his tunic buttons. "Benny, some day you gotta show me how to undo this thing. "

The smile was also involuntary. "It's quite simple, Ray. First you unclasp the --"

"Not now, Benny."

"Understood." Fraser moved his hands from the wall and began unfastening his tunic. His fingers burned as the blood came back into them.

As soon as the tunic was unbuttoned, Ray was pushing it off of his shoulders, flinging his braces off too, sliding -- oh -- his warm hands under his singlet. Fraser pulled it over his head and Ray immediately fastened his mouth to Fraser's left nipple. Fraser felt himself drawn slowly in, gentle suction hardening him, tongue swiping across and making him gasp. When Ray closed his teeth there it felt like an electric shock, and he cupped Ray's nape with one of his hands to hold him there while he arced under the imagined current. He thought he could feel Ray's smile against his chest, but when he looked down to see, Ray's hand was sliding down to palm him, and he lost all thought when that grateful pressure kneaded his length, forcing a grunt out of him.

Ray pulled his mouth away, but kept his hand where it was.

"Bedroom. Now." Ray's pupils were huge, his irises thin green rings lit up with greed.

"Oh yes."

Fraser almost whined when Ray stepped away, as his cock achingly released a few eager drops against the front of his shorts. Best to get out of these clothes forthwith.

Fraser was pleased to note Ray allowing his own clothing to fall where it would in his haste to disrobe. Ray wants me enough to have to iron his trousers, he thought, and laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Well...Deifenbaker is bound to be annoyed with us." He gestured to the bed, where the wolf had curled up on being banished from the living room. Dief was, in fact, regarding them with a judgmental stare.

"That's too damn bad," Ray said, leaning in for another kiss. Fraser pulled him close, relishing the wiry scratch of hair against his chest, the heat radiating off of Ray's skin. Ray broke the kiss to say, "Hey, you still have those stupid pants on," and knelt, naked, at Fraser's feet.

"There's nothing stupid about ... oh ... " Amazing. Ray's mouth on him was simply amazing. Warm, wet suction, yes, but also utterly knowing, clever so-fine slide all the way down, until he felt the back of Ray's throat with the pleading tip of himself.

Fast, too fast. Fraser could just manage to stand there in shock, feeling Ray take him deeply over and over, the velvet slide of him...it was so perfect he was stunned into simply standing there and feeling it.

And then he started to move, minute thrusts of his hips, little movements, not really deserving of the name "thrusts", actually. Ray groaned and grabbed his ass, going with it. Fraser wanted...

Fraser wanted...how could he want more? There couldn't be any more than this, but he wanted it anyway. He missed Ray's head -- there was nothing left to kiss, and he curled his hand around the back of the close-cropped neck.

Ray mistook this for a demand and increased his pace, which was oh my god, yes, but too much, too soon. And then he remembered what Ray said earlier, the vision crashing through his mind like an aftershock. And he knew what he needed.

"Ray, Ray...stop. Please. I want..."

Slowly Ray slid back, and the last regretful pull on him almost made Fraser doubt his decision.

Ray looked up, his face flushed, lips swollen, breathing harshly. Fraser had never seen him like this before -- it was almost eerie, how open he looked. And yet somehow still in control. He wanted to see more of that look.

"What do you want, Benny?" His voice was hoarse.

Fraser caressed the narrow shoulders, drew Ray up to a stand, ran his fingertips lightly down the furred chest and belly.

"I want...I want to see you touch yourself. The way -- the way you said you wanted to today."

Ray looked as if he were about to object, so Fraser stopped him with one of the light, teasing kisses he'd learned Ray liked. Just grazing the parted lips, he let the kiss plead his case. He improvised at the last moment, adding in a squeeze of Ray's penis, half hard but waxing, and watched with delight as Ray's eyes fluttered closed.

When he pulled away, Ray swayed drunkenly and sat on the edge of the bed, muttering, "If anyone had told me I'd spend all day thinking about touching you and wind up touching myself..." Their eyes met, and Fraser felt it strange that Ray should have to look up to see him, so he crouched on the floor, leaning back on his elbows, knees spread a bit. With satisfaction, he heard Ray's breath catch, watched him take hold of himself.

Fraser's own masturbatory technique was, if not furtive, at least hasty. While he felt no shame in it, he rarely took much pleasure in it, either. Generally it was a biological necessity; in the latter months before Ray had made his feelings known, an act of somewhat miserable release. In either event, he normally performed it with efficiency.

Ray did not touch himself efficiently. His eyes sometimes on Fraser, sometimes on his moving hand, he stroked himself slowly and with focused attention, even respect. The variations in technique were surprising and erotic; sometimes Ray reached down to caress his balls, cradling and squeezing, sometimes he lavished attention on the swollen corona, a little moan escaping him as he swirled his palm around it. A volley of short strokes to the shaft was followed by a series of lingering, lazy pulls, and Fraser could almost feel them along his own length. Ray's breath came quickly. Sweat shone on his forehead, his chest, his working arm. His face was slack with pleasure. Fraser lost the sense of anything else, lost in that face, until Ray's eyes glittered at him.

"Kiss me," Ray growled.

Fraser crossed the few paces between them in record time, and opened his mouth to Ray's tongue. Ray's cries followed, muffled, and Fraser swallowed them gladly as warm semen spattered his chest. He held Ray tightly as his movements slowed. He could not remember ever having been so aroused.

Eventually Ray broke the kiss to get his breath, and Fraser stretched out on the bed, giving himself a few experimental caresses. Ray had done this --

And Ray was on top of him, sliding stickily up his body to take more kisses, and covering Fraser's hand with his own.

"Let me, Benny --" as Fraser's hand tried to move -- "Let me. Please."

"I suppose I've deprived you long enough," Fraser knew he was smirking.

"I'm gonna remember you said that," said Ray, with a long, tight slide of his hand.

The noise that escaped Fraser sounded very like a whimper to his own ears, but he was soon past caring as he felt Ray taking the same care with his aching cock as he had with himself. Desire was drawn from him in long, maddeningly slow pulls, teased at him in moist swirls, blessed by him with every stroke as the gathering ache grew and grew. With a sharp inward twist, Ray's finger breached him, and he was gone, gone, joyfully gone. So good, so good, and then ticklish and he batted Ray's hand away, giggling and gasping as the finger withdrew, and pulling a hugely grinning Ray down for more kisses.

"Well, that was...most...undignified."

"Undignified? You weren't the one starring in the floor show here."

Fraser looked at him intently. "You didn't really mind that, did you?"

Ray glanced down, then back up at him. "It was fine. But what I'd like now is a shower."

Fraser regretted this shift in the conversation; he would have liked to discuss Ray's...methods. In his limited experience, he understood that such careful self-pleasure was a rare thing, particularly among Catholics. And then, the way Ray had handled him...Fraser shivered and felt grateful. "I'm afraid there's just the tub down the hall, and...oh dear, is it 6:30 yet? Mr. Mustafi will be taking his bath. I can offer you a wet washcloth."

"I hate this place." Ray slid off him and examined the gluey remains of their pleasure covering his belly.

"Now, Ray..."

"Never mind. Where's the washcloth?"

"Follow me."

As they washed up, Ray seemed distracted by cares. Fraser would have made it a festive event, but Ray was quiet and brisk, attending to the business at hand. Finally, he said, "Franny is on to us."

"What do you mean?"

"She cornered me when I got home last night...I should say, this morning. She knew I'd been with you. I think she knew even before."

"Oh dear."

"Oh dear is right. I told her she was full of shit, of course, but we gotta be really careful now. If Franny decides she's right about this, she'll be yammering to everybody about it."

Fraser rinsed out the washcloth and hung it from the nail above the sink. "Would it be so terrible, Ray, if people found out?"

"Are you kidding? This isn't San Francisco, Fraser. Do you know what they do to gay cops?"

Fraser took Ray's hand in his, squeezed it. I don't care, he wanted to say. I don't care what anyone says or does. "Let's lie down again for a minute."

Ray followed him back to the bedroom. "Never mind what Ma would think. No, I think it's time we got some beards."

"The RCMP doesn't permit its employees to grow..."

"Not real beards! Women! Women to date, to throw people off the scent." Ray reached for his underwear.

"Wouldn't that be unfair to the women, Ray?"

"Oh, come on, Benny, you know the way they act around you. Any woman would jump at the chance to date you." Pausing with one leg in his trousers, Ray stroked Fraser's cheek for a moment. "I'm not saying you have to raise anyone's expectations, although sleeping with them wouldn't hurt...how can you blush like that after what we just did?"

"Ray, I don't want to date women, I want to date you."

"That's what I want too, Benny. All I'm saying is, we gotta be careful."

***

It only took a week before Benny was shacked up with some woman. Ray had to hand it to him: ask the guy to do something, and he made sure it got done pronto. Ray just wished he'd been a little more considerate about his timing.

By 9:30 the guys were short-tempered with hunger. Louis had broken one of Maria's vases with a wayward cue, and it was clear that Benny was gonna be a no-show. Ray couldn't believe it. He'd given his word.

He tried to rationalize it -- maybe Benny thought that this was a good opportunity to allay suspicions, or maybe he didn't trust himself not to give something away in these tight quarters, in this casual atmosphere. But it didn't add up. What could be more normal than a bunch of guys playing pool together? And anyway, he'd promised.

Ray tried to convince himself that it was only anger he felt as he drove across town, just a regular everyday anger at being stood up by a friend. His hands tightened on the wheel. Being stood up for a woman. To have sex with a woman. A woman Fraser hadn't even bothered to introduce to him.

Ray imagined Fraser, strong and in control, thrusting into her, pictured long legs wrapped around the wide back. Saw her face open and needy, saw Benny's, rapt with concentration. His chest would be flushed, biceps straining...Ray felt the rush of acid in his belly well before he noticed his dick was hard.

He hadn't thought Fraser had it in him, to just pick up a woman and have sex with her, just like that. Maybe the Mountie was more experienced than he let on. Maybe there was a lot he didn't know about Benny.

When he got to the door, Ray was surprised to see Diefenbaker out in the hall. He and Fraser had never bothered to kick the wolf out of the apartment when they were together. "Three's a crowd, huh, Dief?"

After a while, Fraser answered the door. He was half-dressed, and Ray swallowed, his throat raw. "What's tonight, Benny?"

Fraser had the decency to look horrified when he finally figured it out. Almost good enough. But then he tried to give Ray the money he owed him, as if that made any difference. As if that was the whole point here. Ray seethed as Fraser offered him, at last, the chance to meet his new girlfriend. Too late.

Whatever was going on here, Fraser clearly had feelings for this woman. It was more than Ray could stand. He took off.

Should've figured Fraser wouldn't let things lie, would come running out to the Riv to try to work things out. Fraser couldn't just let things fucking lie. And he always, always had to have the last word.

"I'm sorry." Fraser was breathing heavily, and Ray could see his chest heaving beneath his open shirt. He did sound sorry, and for a second Ray wanted to touch him, but he didn't. Couldn't, anyway, not there in the street. "It's just that I made a mistake once, and I can't make it again." Fraser took off his hat and set it on top of the Riv.

Ray didn't know what it was all about, but he did know one thing: Fraser'd been having sex with this woman for three days, and now he thought he was in love with her. Just Ray's luck to fall for a fucking bisexual, as if he didn't have enough problems. He never would've figured Fraser for somebody like that, somebody who'd just give his heart to anybody who came along. Somebody who'd leave him for a woman.

Fraser was still going on when they heard the shot. Ray knew by that time that his entire life was about to change. They took off back to the apartment and Fraser's hat flew off the car and drifted into the gutter, forgotten.


End file.
